


Eye of the Beholder

by earthseed_fic



Series: Clint and and Phil In Love [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: First Time, M/M, Oral Sex, Pic Fic, Tumblr Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-12
Updated: 2013-10-12
Packaged: 2017-12-29 04:11:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1000723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/earthseed_fic/pseuds/earthseed_fic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil likes Clint's undercover make-up more than he expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eye of the Beholder

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by poster for The Immigrant. Staingirl's edit of the poster can be seen here:  
> http://earthseed-fic.tumblr.com/post/63758681666/clintandphilinlove-dont-the-word-comes-out

"Don’t." The word comes out harsher than Phil intends. His voice is wrecked and he hasn’t even gotten to touch yet. May not get to touch at all.

Clint’s standing just a few feet away from him, washcloth in hand, waiting. When Phil doesn’t say anything, Clint asks, “Are we going back out?”

Phil could lie here. He’s good at it. A lie would get him what he wants: a few more hours of Clint in a tuxedo, hair slicked back, make-up that highlights the tempting red of his lips and the violent mix of green and brown in his eyes, the very embodiment of their mark’s wet dream. And Phil’s, too, he’s quickly realizing. So yeah, he should lie, to get more of this, to get out of this. Instead, though, he hears himself say, “Touch me.”

Clint’s pupils go dark and wide. “What?”

Phil closes the space between them and takes the washcloth from his hand. “Touch me.” He reaches out to trace his thumb across Clint’s lips. Clint’s breath hitches, but he doesn’t move, doesn’t take his eyes (his impossibly beautiful fucking eyes) from Phil’s. Phil takes that as permission and pushes his thumb, gently but insistently, past Clint’s lips and teeth. He feels the very last shreds of his control give way when the pad of his thumb hits the rough, hot moisture of Clint’s tongue.

”God, Phil,” Clint breathes. And now it’s his turn to sound wrecked and if anyone thought Phil could resist the heady combination of Clint fucking Barton looking like the very personification of the dirtiest kind of sex and the invitation clearly written all over Clint’s face, well they were profoundly mistaken.

"On your knees." It’s both plea and order and Clint understands completely because he’s on his knees without question, deftly undoing the belt and clasps and zipper on Phil’s slacks. His cock is free and in Clint’s mouth before Phil has a chance to second-guess what they’re doing. And he’s glad for that because he doesn’t think he could stop now, even if he wanted to. Clint’s tongue is positively wicked and Phil decides then and there that the obscene moan of pleasure that accompanies each slide of his cock down Clint’s throat is definitely a sound he plans to hear every day, for the rest of his life.

Soon, too soon, if Phil’s being honest, he finds himself with a handful of Clint’s hair, grunting filthy nonsense, thrusting wildly, and chasing an orgasm that threatens to blow him apart. He’s doubled over now, clutching at the back of Clint’s jacket, grateful for the strong arms holding up. “Gofuckingdamnit,” he groans as he comes down Clint’s throat.

When his vision clears and his world is once again something other than the wet and heat of Clint’s perfect mouth, Phil straightens and looks down to see Clint staring at him. His eyes are dark with want, his tongue darts across his spit-slick lips, and his grin is all filthy promise. “So, you like the look, I take it?” he asks.

It’s so typically Clint—snarky and irreverent and on target—that Phil can’t help but laugh. Typical Clint (not regretful or shamed or betrayed Clint) means he hasn’t made a mistake. Typical Clint means he might get more of this.

Phil adjusts himself and zips back up (they’re in a safe house; they really can’t do this here). “You’re awfully proud of yourself,” he says as he leans in for a kiss.

Clint drags him to the floor and climbs on top. “Took you long enough,” he responds. “If I’d known,” he says between kisses, “I would have fucking tried eyeliner years ago.”


End file.
